


The Sound of Music

by MageArcher



Category: Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, My First Fanfic, Pre-Canon, The Lute, kvothe deserves to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-21 06:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19368985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageArcher/pseuds/MageArcher
Summary: Bast concocts a plan to return Kvothe to his former self. It does not go quite as planned...





	The Sound of Music

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I had to get out of my head. I really needed something a bit less depressing than our precious canon, so I hope those of you who feel like me enjoy this. English is not my native language, so if any of you find mistakes please tell me in the comments.

It was one of those rare evenings in late autumn, when the sky was cloudless and blue, the air cold and crisp and as clear as faen crystal. Bast lounged in the back of carter’s cart, staring at the tiny lights piercing the darkening velvet of the sky and the thin sliver of moon, with its everlasting mysterious smile. Absentmindedly, he touched the object in his package through the rough wrapping cloth. An irritating thought kept buzzing in his mind, whispering to him. You should have found a better one, it seemed to murmur in his ear, you should have taken the time. Annoyed at himself, Bast shook his head in another fruitless attempt to banish it. He couldn't have taken the time, he told himself firmly. Even now, he could feel the urgency with every fiber of his being, its singing interweaving with the soft melody of the moon in his veins, turning his blood to fire. And besides, he probably couldn't have found anything worthy in that accursed, remote excuse of a town even had he been willing to waste his time. The cart made its slow rambling way up the road, and finally came to a halt near the familiar doors of the waystone inn.  
  
"Thanks carter!" said Bast, standing with his usual dancer's grace, and easily hoisting up all the goods Reshi had sent him for, the package held firmly under one arm. The farmer answered something pleasant and unimportant, and then was on his way.   
The silence of the waystone was hidden well today. Sounds of laughter and conversation drifted through the open windows, mixing with soft, yellow candlelight. And Bast knew that when he entered, he would find Kote, smiling and laughing, serving his customers with practiced docility, his hands, made to create music and powerful magic, to fiddle with ancient artifacts, to save or condemn lives, serving mugs of cheap ale and swiping coins of the bar, his voice, made to sing and tell stories and turn words into reality, making casual meaningless conversation, and the innkeeper’s mask less a mask every moment, slowly killing the man that had been, the man that should have been, and the silence always there in his fading eyes...    
  
No. Bast forced himself to stop this line of thought. It wouldn't help him get what he wanted, and therefore he had no time to waste on it.   
The inn was unusually full today (most evenings it stood empty, with only old cob and carter and the others coming occasionally for a drink). Bast was confused at first, but from half heard snatches of conversation he concluded that it was probably a holiday. Was it, really? He could never remember those weird human dates. Luckily for him though, today's large quantities of customers suited Bast's plans perfectly. Putting on his most festive, cheerful smile, he opened the door and entered the inn.

  
************

  
"Ah, Bast, there you are! I was beginning to worry you had run off to find yourself a better paying job!" The innkeeper’s deep voice was light and amused, and it carried well in the confined space. This comment elicited friendly, and slightly drunk laughter from many of the customers sitting at the bar, and an internal cringe from Bast. Everything was just as he had imagined it. The innkeeper stood behind the bar, pouring some alcoholic substance into a wooden mug held by some villager (there were no travelers in the waystone tonight, as there have not been for a few span now, not with the roads in so bad a condition). His hair was slightly brighter today, and his eyes shone with liveliness, but it didn’t do anything to calm Bast’s sense of urgency. If anything, it made Bast angry, for he knew that it was only a pale shadow of his friend and teacher, a mockery of the fire that had once burned in him. It took some effort on his part to leave the smile in its proper place on his lips, but Bast did it. He could not afford any distractions, not tonight.   
  
"Finding the best goods takes time Reshi, and I always aspire to find the very best", he said lightly.   
"Indeed, Bast" agreed the innkeeper dryly, "especially if said goods happen to be wearing dresses". More good-natured laughter accompanied Bast as he crossed the crowded room to distribute the new bottles on the shelf behind the bar, and put the other sacks in their appropriate places in the basement.    
  
He returned to the main room with the package still tucked under his arm, to find Kote pouring wine into Jake’s cup, conversing amiably about the price of butter and the unusual amount of bandits on the roads. Bast grated his teeth, but concealed it quickly when the innkeeper turned around.    
"What have you got there, Bast?" He asked, mildly curious, faded green eyes focusing on the weirdly shaped bundle. Bast’s heart began beating faster. He had to do it now. He will not get an opportunity like this in months, and then it might be too late…   
"Why, your birthday present of course, Reshi!" he answered in what he hoped was a bright, enthusiastic voice.

Ignoring Kote's displeased expression, Bast turned to look at the puzzled customers who sat close enough to hear the exchange, his face a perfect image of surprise and confusion. "He didn't tell you?" he asked the villagers and waited until they shook their heads, praying in his heart to the moon and the sun. Then he turned to look reproachfully at the red haired man. "You shouldn't conceal it so, Reshi, a birthday only happens once a year!"  
  
Kote shot him a quick, angry glance, and then smoothed his face. "It isn't that important Bast. Besides, you know that I like birthdays, or for that matter, birthday presents, around as much as most people appreciate a stroll outside in midwinter. During a storm. With wet clothes."   
  
"I know that, Reshi," agreed Bast before the amused customers could intervene, "but I think it is because your experience with birthdays suffered much abuse. I decided to make up for it. Here you go!" He quickly unwrapped the cloth and held the leather-wrapped object toward Kote.    
  
The innkeeper froze. The sheer shock on his face was trampled by a storm of battling emotions not all of which Bast could easily identify, emotions that were in turn visibly forced down to be replaced by a brittle mask of artificial calmness.   
"You really shouldn't have, Bast" he said levelly, slowly and carefully backing away from the object still held in Bast's hand, as if it were a poisonous snake ready to bite. "I appreciate your attempt, but it really is a waste of money. I truly don’t like birthday presents ".   
  
"But Reshi...” whined Bast "I miss your music, you used to play so well..." Kote's eyes were rapidly changing, from the faded color they have adopted during the last months into a very dark green, almost black. Bast knew with quite a bit of satisfaction, that he had finally managed to awaken his master’s rage and mind after long months of apathy. He also knew that it was not going to help the red haired man. The trap has just snapped shut.   
  
"Why didn’t you tell us you can play the lute, Kote?!" Exclaimed a few people at once (well, their phrasing was not exactly so synchronized, but the meaning was all the same). The innkeeper said something, but his words were lost in the sudden hubbub as the exciting news passed like wildfire through the room, and then someone began a chant of "Play! Play! Play!" that was soon joined by most of the customers, clapping along and banging their hands and mugs against the wooden tables, spilling drops of dark liquid onto the floor.    
  
"I... I really should not..." said Kote, raising his voice to be heard over the din, looking around like a trapped animal searching for a way to escape. "I haven't played in years, it would sound horrible, I should not abuse such a fine musical instrument so, especially not in front of my customers. I probably do not remember how to do it anyway..." for a sliver of a moment so tiny, that anyone not watching the innkeeper very closely wouldn’t have noticed, pain showed on the young man's face, raw and naked and bloody. And then it was gone, disappearing as quickly as it had come. Gone was also the black rage Bast had glimpsed. Behind the bar stood a young innkeeper in a clean white apron, with a determined, and a little lost expression on his face, and a rag held in a white-knuckled grip.   
  
"You cannot forget how to play an instrument!" Said a tall burly man with the arrogant confidence of someone who didn’t know anything about what they were saying, "It’s like riding a horse, once you have learned it, you can’t forget!”. A few other people nodded or made general noises of agreement.   
"I will be very rusty though," answered the innkeeper, almost colliding with a barrel of wine in his haste to keep a distance between himself and the lute, which Bast tried to push into his hands, showing with all his being how much he agreed with the idiot manling, and what a fool Kote was making of himself, not accepting such a magnificent present. "I was never that good to begin with, now it will be just an insult to the songs I tried to play" answered Kote, taking another step back for good measure. Though, for a moment, Bast could have sworn he had seen longing in the man’s eyes.   
  
Things were getting out of control. Some people proceeded to chant "Play the lute! Play the lute!” while others shouted various arguments in favor of the innkeeper doing just that, all their voices interweaving and becoming one jarring cacophony. Bast knew that soon Reshi's panic will be replaced by cold anger and precise, deadly calculation at which point he will either find a way to wiggle out of it, or just frighten the customers into silence. Bast knew better than most that things could turn very ugly for the targets of his master’s rage. He didn’t know how much the red haired man could do in his current state, but Bast wasn’t willing to find out. He also knew well that what his master lacked in raw power, he could always compensate in creativity. He had to do something, and soon. 

  
"Then let him practice first!" shouted Bast into a second of relative silence, when the loudest arguers stopped to take a breath. Silence re established itself in the room as customers leaned in to listen. Bast continued, turning towards the innkeeper "Reshi, if you are afraid that you will be rusty now, take some time to practice and reunite yourself with a musical instrument. Then our customers could come again, in a span or two, to drink some wine and fine ale, and listen to even finer music! Am I not right, folks?" The customers answered this in a united roar of agreement, quite satisfied at having another excuse to celebrate. "Two span should be quite enough!" Said old cob, and so, without the innkeeper's agreement, or, for that matter, his involvement, it was decided that in twenty two days they will all come here again to listen to him play. And then the matter was closed, and conversations turned to other topics and customers shouted for drinks and food, Kote not having managed to say even a word edgewise. And he had no choice but to put on a cheerful smile and serve the people that had unknowingly condemned him to suffering, only occasionally sending covert, murderous glances toward Bast. 

 

************

  
It was late at night when the last customers have finally retired (or were dragged) to their own houses and the silence was back in its power. Part of it was lacking, for the two men (well, the man and the faen) standing from two opposite sides of the bar could faintly hear the noise of people continuing to celebrate in the village streets some distance from the inn, but those half heard noises could not touch the silence of the inn itself, the silence emanating from the red haired man now drilling his student with eyes that seemed black in the darkness, the man who owned the silence just as he owned the inn.    
  
"What were you thinking Bast?" Asked the innkeeper, his voice low and angry.   
  
Bast took a deep breath, trying to quite the apprehension that has been hanging over him for the last hours. "Reshi, I thought to help-"   
  
"No! You didn’t think to help, Bast, you didn't think at all, for I refuse to believe that a student of mine who stopped for even a moment to consider his actions would do something so utterly, completely, outrageously asinine!" rage was now plain on the man’s face, distorting his features. For a moment, it was Kvothe standing behind the bar, black-eyed and strong and terrible, the man who was feared even among the fay. Bast’s apprehension suddenly turned into cold fear such as he hadn't felt in years.   
  
"Reshi-" his voice was strange in his own ears, not quite as melodical as it should be.   
  
"You know full well why I stopped playing, Bast, why I locked it all away, why I cannot let myself go back, ever." Kote was shaking now, his hands gripping the polished wood with enough force to make Bast worry for its wholeness.   
  
"Yes, I know" said Bast very quietly. He looked down at his feet. He feared that if he met his Reshi’s eyes, he would break. He couldn’t break now, he simply couldn’t. He had to finish this, it was the only chance…   


"And yet you did this." Said the innkeeper. Bast nodded. 

"Why?" There was so much pain in the man's voice, that for a moment Bast regretted ever laying eyes on the instrument now resting in its case beside him. The anger that had seemed to fuel the innkeeper throughout the evening was completely gone now, and with it his strength. He stood, leaning on the bar for support, looking down at his graceful, long-fingered hands. He looked lost, like a child who suddenly found himself alone in a cruel, unforgiving world. "Why, Bast?" Kote's whisper was barely audible even for Bast’s ears.  
  
Bast took another deep breath, pushing down the heat in the back of his throat. "Because it is better than watching you waste away like this, Reshi.” Saying those words was one of the hardest things Bast had ever done in his long life, yet he forced himself to say them, every syllable as heavy as a stone. The truth was so hard to say, sometimes. The truth, his last resort. “With every day you become more and more the innkeeper, and less who you were. A few months ago it was a pretense, a mask you would take off when we were alone. But the mask is fading, blurring together with your own face, and someday I am afraid you will find that it is not a mask at all. Almost anything is better than this, Reshi, even causing you so much pain."   
  
"Did it ever occur to you, that I might want it to become reality?” Kote spoke softly, almost as if talking to himself. He still appeared to be looking at his hands, but his gaze was far, far away. “I _am_ an innkeeper now. The man I have been is gone, and if he ever appears again, he will die, this time for good. Maybe I want to forget, Bast, to live the rest of my life quietly, to be an innkeeper like I dreamed to in my childhood..." the red haired man looked up at Bast, who wouldn't meet his eye.   
  
"I am sorry, Reshi" he said, struggling to keep his voice toneless.    
  
Kote took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were dark again. "Even if you were, it's too late now. You left me no choice." Kote straightened, and looked at Bast. "In a few days we will be leaving. I suggest that you begin closing all your long term business here."   
  
Shock washed down Bast’s spine like a cold shower. He hadn’t expected this, he hadn’t planned for this, he didn’t think of that possibility, they couldn’t just go! "But Reshi-" he was frantic, trying to find some way out...   
"No Bast." Kote's voice was hard and grim. "We are leaving, and that's it. You have no say in this, you have done enough already. Good night." And just like that, he turned and strode up the stairs, his back stiff, movements precise and mechanical.   
  
And then Bast was alone in the darkness of the main room, staring dejectedly at the lute case still lying on an unpolished patch of wood the innkeeper had "missed" in his arduous, methodical cleaning. He tried to take comfort in the simple beauty of its ornaments, and couldn’t. He had failed, foolishly thrown away his only chance, and now they would be leaving, only to settle down again in another remote place even farther from civilization, where the silence would rule, and his teacher will fade away...   
He stood like that for a while, staring emptily into space, and then climbed the stairs and slowly walked toward his room, guilt following him like an almost visible shadow. It was going to be a long night. 

************

  
In a small room on the second floor of the waystone inn lay a young man and stared at the ceiling. He had given up on sleep some time ago, and was now trying not to think about the arm-length wooden object that lay on the bar downstairs. Part of him hoped that a drunk villager would steal the accursed thing. Another part of him, a small voice the man had starved and beaten down and locked in the recesses of his mind, whispered for him to walk down the stairs, just to look at it, just to touch... Kote shook his head, trying in vain to make it stop, to force it back into its tiny cell. He had done enough. He would not do the same mistakes again, he would not let his pain condemn everyone else to utter destruction. He would not...   
  
But as hard as he tried, Kote could not silence his treacherous thoughts. He tossed and turned on the hard mattress, mind buzzing and an old pain squeezing his chest. And every time he tried to close his eyes, its image would be there before him, strings shining bright in the candlelight,  wooden curves so simple and rough and impossibly perfect… Finally, he got up and headed downstairs, giving the deadly object a wide berth. If they were going to leave soon, there were things to be done, belongings to be packed. He would do it quietly, of course, so as not to wake Bast, and subtly, to leave his intentions unnoticed. One day the villagers would simply wake up to find the inn empty, the innkeeper and his employee gone. They will, Kote thought with a bitter smile, probably not even notice their absence until the evening when cob and the others came.    
  
So the innkeeper bustled around the silent, dark inn, always careful to keep a distance between himself and the lute, packing and cleaning and doing a hundred little, unimportant chores that kept an inn functioning, because everything had to look as it always did. Most importantly of all, he was trying to forget.

 

************

  
In another room, a few doors down the corridor from the innkeeper's, a dark haired youth lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, and listening to the sounds of his teacher working below. He knew what the man was feeling, why he was working so late at night, and it made something inside him shrink painfully. After a long internal debate, Bast silently got up and, easily avoiding all the creaking floorboards, walked down the stairs.   
  
In the main room he stood silently for a while, watching Kote carefully clean each individual bottle on the shelf behind the bar. From time to time his precise movements would begin to slow down, and then halt completely. Some time would pass, the innkeeper standing, motionless, staring at the bottle in his hands but not seeing it, and then he would shake his head as if to clear it, and go back to his task with more determination than before.   
  
"Can't sleep again, Bast?" asked the man suddenly, making his student jump, for he was sure he had stayed unnoticed.   
  
"Yes" said Bast simply. He did not know what else to say.   
  
They were silent for a minute during which Bast gathered his courage, and then said "Reshi, I-"   
  
"Don't, Bast". Kote's voice was soft, and gentle. "We cannot change what is already past, so let us talk of happier things.”   
  
"Of course, Reshi," said Bast, an idea suddenly occurring to him. It was foolish and naïve, and deep in his soul Bast knew that his teacher would never fall for a trap so transparent. But it was a way of action, something he could do instead of placidly watching his teacher seal his own fate. And Bast decided that he would give himself one last try. After all, he didn’t see how it could get any worse...   
  
"Tahlue anyway, where will we be heading from here?" he asked, walking gracefully to the bar.    
  
Kote shrugged. "I haven't decided yet, though I think we will be heading north, farther from the university. You know, greener pastures, prettier women..." he smiled wistfully, as if remembering something.   
  
"Prettier women are always good, Reshi. Maybe you will find a few for yourself too… ". Bast stopped, holding his breath, cursing his tongue for not being able to stop when it obviously should, but the innkeeper pretended he hadn't heard. As Bast reached the bar, Kote finished cleaning the last bottle, and, moving to the center of the room, began polishing the tables and chairs. Casually as he could, Bast picked up the loot, holding it as gently as if it were a baby, cradling it and stroking the wood, all the while watching the red haired man from the corner of his eye. For a moment, it seemed to Bast that he had seen envy on Kote's face, but then it was gone, and Bast decided that it was just wishful thinking on his part.   
  
"Will we open another inn, then, or are you going to try something else this time? Maybe we could try opening a shop of some kind. You are good at bargaining."  As he spoke, Bast seemingly carelessly strummed a few of the lute’s strings, letting out a quiet, sweet sound that made the innkeeper stiffen and stop moving for a breath, before he continued his task. Envy was the wrong way to go, then. It was not enough to make his teacher do something carelessly instinctive – the only even nearly possible outcome Bast could hope for. Well then, he will try another tactic.

“It is a possibility, and not a bad one at that. I thought of giving inn keeping another try, but frankly the lack of customers has tired me quite a bit, and as it is not going to become any better in the foreseeable future…” a particularly dark and painful shadow settled on Kote’s face, distorting its features. It made a cold settle deep in Bast’s guts. Sunken eyes looked out of a shadowed, hollow face, sharp as broken glass or as a murderer’s knife. They wandered around the room, seeing but not quite the right way. For a time that was probably seconds but seemed like eternity, Bast didn’t dare move a muscle, for fear he would draw that gaze upon himself. Then the man shook his head, and the shadow disappeared, as if blown away by the slight wind the movement created. 

“Anyway, I might just try my luck at the seller’s profession.” He finished the sentence, the words ringing like bells in the suffocating silence, and freeing Bast from his frozen state.

“That sounds wonderful, Reshi!” he said, trying not to let show his relief. “I am sure that it will give us some respite from the tedium of not doing anything all day long. But it also means that we will have less time for our lessons…” and he made a terribly disappointed face, which made Kote snort with amusement. 

“It does, Bast, and I am assured that it saddens you terribly, even more than the fact that you will have less time to chase unsuspecting milkmaids.” Bast nodded self-importantly and made his best ‘you-see-what-a-good-student-I-am’ face, while letting the hand still holding the lute fall in a trajectory that very obviously meant the forgotten instrument was going to hit the side of the bar with enough force to break it.

Bast had made sure to do so at a moment when his teacher was watching him carefully, and the movement could not have been missed, and indeed it was not. He had seen Reshi move very fast, faster than a man should be able to, and yet now he reached an even higher peak of speed. The man seemed to disappear from where he had stood near the center of the common room, and appeared near Bast, graceful fingers catching the instrument by its neck and belly to prevent the collision, and then pulling it firmly away from Bast (who let go as quickly as he could), out of danger.  

Bast couldn’t believe it had worked. Maybe the moon had finally heard his prayers, or maybe Kvothe’s instincts, the instincts of a well raised Ruh, were still too strong beneath the mask. It was all done in one movement, rapid as lightning and just as abrupt. At the end of it, Kvothe was left standing a few paces from Bast, clutching the lute to his chest as if it were a newborn baby someone had just tried to kill. He stood like that for a time, his face a mask of shock and confusion, and then… then he began to cry. 

 

************

  
The sky was just beginning to lighten with the first slivers of dawn when Kvothe finally cried himself out. His hands still cradled the lute, and his face was pressed against Bast’s shoulder, the wet cloth rough against his cheek.  The melody Bast had been humming to sooth his friend and teacher slowly subsided as well, until they were immersed in a comfortable silence.

“Thank you, Bast.” he whispered quietly. His voice was hoarse, but still melodical and deep, not quite Kvothe’s voice yet, but close enough to send shivers of excitement through Bast.

“I am happy I could help, Reshi.” He said, gently unwrapping his arms from around the man, and changed the subject: “I think we should get at least a few hours of sleep, don’t you?”

Kvothe nodded, and got up. He tenderly put the lute back in its case and closed it with a low click. “Good night, Bast.” He said quietly, and walked upstairs to his room, seemingly deep in thought.

Some time later Bast stood in that room’s doorway. In the weak light that slanted its way through the window, his friend’s red hair seamed red as flame, and his face was soft and peaceful for the first time in months. His breath was slow and measured. Bast nodded in satisfaction, silently closed the door and headed for his own room.

 

************

 

Bast woke up to the sound of music drifting up from the common room. Excited, he jumped out of bed and raced downstairs, still keeping quiet so as to not startle his Reshi. 

Kvothe was sitting on the bar where he had left the lute case yesterday, his fingers shyly and somehow timidly coaxing the notes out of the metal strings. Bast listened for a few minutes, holding his breath, until Kvothe’s fingers stumbled, eliciting a screeching sound that made the Flame-haired man flinch and stop.

“Sorry for that, Bast” he grimaced and got up, gently returning the instrument to its case. “I will make us some easy breakfast, and then we will begin working. There is a lot to do today, lots of things to pack…” 

“What?! But Reshi…” Bast was astonished and appalled, the last traces of sleep disappearing from his mind in alarm. How, after all of this? Had he done something wrong? Had he miscalculated something? Everything has been going so well, he was sure he had done it!

“Don’t panic, Bast!” Kvothe laughed, and threw his hands in front of him in a wide gesture. “Yes, we are leaving, but not for some backwater village in Modeg. I’ve a mind of returning to more… civilized places and visiting a few old friends. Isn’t that what you wanted all along?”

“You are not going to hide anymore?” Bast asked warily, and was reassured by his master’s nod. Then tensed again when Kvothe amended: “Well, I am going to continue hiding my identity, it’s not exactly safe to display it for all to see these days, and I will not open the chest quite yet, it is still dangerous for the same reasons as before. But I have decided that I could not do much more damage than I already have, and therefore I might as well try to fix what I can. I would also like to believe that now I have some more sense, and a little less of that annoying temper, which will hopefully give me a better chance of setting everything to rights.”  

He smiled crookedly, and Bast felt a wide grin spread across his face as he looked into a pair of bright, leaf-green eyes.


End file.
